


I rule with the velvet tongue and my dress undone

by Carrie_Blanc



Category: Original Work
Genre: And she will get it eventually, Angst, Dungeons & Dragons Character Backstory, Espionage, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Heartbreak, Mental Anguish, Politics, mental manipulation, my baby deserves better, toxic parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28538760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carrie_Blanc/pseuds/Carrie_Blanc
Summary: “Perhaps the problem lies in you? Have you thought about it?”Of course, the hell, Eris thought about it. Countless times.When putting on the act of a cute idiot, smiling blankly at people who only saw a pretty face and a catchy melody in her.When pouring poison into the goblet of an unsuspecting interlocutor.When washing the blood off her dagger.When seeing the terror in the eyes of the blackmailed person whom she just explained that she knows their dirtiest secrets and if they do not meet certain conditions, their life and family will go downhill.When drinking hard and losing consciousness only to wake up in a random person's bed the next morning with a sickening sense of disgust.When passing on the information she got to her father, who never asked what she had to do to get to them.Of course, the problem lies in her. It had to, since her whole life was like a rather gruesome spy novel mixed with a cheesy romance where she was the unfortunate main heroine but with smaller bust, bigger brain and little luck when it came to finding her happy ever after.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 5





	I rule with the velvet tongue and my dress undone

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little thing that I wrote in a pathological rush of inspiration. Eris is my character in the DnD campaign led by my friend Vi who is also the author of this setting, founder of Kairagord, explorer of the whole continent, creator of Victor Lance (RiP but not in peace), and mother of Reinhilda and Maxwell Mullins mentioned in the story.  
> Vildiril, Mellion and Brodomir are the characters of my buddies from my party.  
> Soft boi Vidiril and vampire boi Leonard are Vincent's babies.  
> Mushroom boi Mellion, belongs to Simon.  
> Poor boi Brodomir is a creation of Matthew. 
> 
> The rest of the characters are my prattle about my Eris, whom I love with all my heart.  
> The title is taken from an excerpt from the song "Holy" by King Princess.  
> Later in the story, I used parts of the song "Cinammon Girl" by Lana del Rey

The autumn wind rustled eerily through the dead leaves. Branches of nearby trees and shrubs swayed like Grim Reapers fingers reaching towards unknowing travellers. 

The only refuge of warmth and light on this gloomy night was the fire they lit a few hours ago. Eris sat wrapped in two coats and a blanket that smelled like a horse, shaking slightly; partly from the cold, partly because she was alone with her thoughts, again. She tightened her cold-stiff fingers around the neck of her lute. 

It had been a rare occasion lately, she thought, looking at the sleeping Brodomir and Mellion and Vildiril submersed in a trance. Leonard and Reinhilda were nowhere in sight. Eris would not be surprised if these two just turned into bats and flew somewhere around the villages shitting in flour and pissing in the milk of local villagers. 

They crashed in a small valley, sheltered on one side by a fallen tree. This allowed them to at least light a fire at which they ate a small meal. The rest of the group quickly went to sleep, exhausted from the last few days leaving Eris on first watch. 

The last few days... 

Eris had not expected the visit to Lakesumit to be such a _strange_ experience. A week and a half ago, when she was arrested with three ragged men pretending to be navy officers, she was pretty sure she was as good as dead. When Vildiril incinerated one of her father's men in this spectacular and completely unnecessary way, she thought of tearing that particular arm from him just beat him to death with it. And then do the same with the remaining two of that strange group. So many weeks of stealth and discreet travel went up (literally) in smoke. 

But then Victor Lance came and it turned out that maybe this alliance by chance would bring something good. Subsequent events only confirmed her belief that she ran away from her father at the last possible moment. 

The spine-chilling pictures from Gomez's factory didn't make her lose sleep but they made her feel sick to her stomach. The abomination of human nature never ceased to amaze her. And those songs she will write about the factory undergrounds will end up exactly like those describing the rot she has already seen among people with smooth faces and gilded cuffs; buried deep in her drawer, they will never see the light of the stage. 

Passing through the tunnels and fighting Lance freed them from the remnants of their mental and physical strength. Brodomir mourned the loss of his arm by being gloomily silent most of the time, stroking his stump thoughtfully when he thought nobody watched. She suspected it would take him some time to come to terms with the loss of a limb. Maybe the prosthesis from Leonard would help him somehow... 

Eris was not a specialist in mental health. Hell, in fact, she would say that she is the last person that should give any advices on this. 

Her fingers twitched on the strings as that thought brought back old bittersweet memories. Maxwell Mullins' words from a few days ago began to pound in her head again. 

“ _Perhaps the problem lies in you? Have you thought about it?_ ” 

Of course, the hell, she thought about it. Countless times. 

When putting on the act of a cute idiot, smiling blankly at people who only saw a pretty face and a catchy melody in her. 

When pouring poison into the goblet of an unsuspecting interlocutor. 

When washing the blood off her dagger. 

When seeing the terror in the eyes of the blackmailed person whom she just explained that she knows their dirtiest secrets and if they do not meet certain conditions, their life and family will go downhill. 

When drinking hard and losing consciousness only to wake up in a random person's bed the next morning with a sickening sense of disgust. 

When passing on the information she got to her father, who never asked what she had to do to get to them. 

Of course, the problem lies in her. It had to, since her whole life was like a rather gruesome spy novel mixed with a cheesy romance where she was the unfortunate main heroine but with smaller bust, bigger brain and little luck when it came to finding her happy ever after. 

She looked glumly at the fire, crackling in the logs she had magically dried up a few hours earlier so that they wouldn’t all smell like smoked ham after that night. 

Her father made a monster out of her. 

In hindsight, she finally saw it. 

XXX 

A little girl in a blue dress with puffy sleeves stood on the table in the parlour in the Birsk family manor. Her sweet, nightingale voice carried loudly in the room. The faces of the audience expressed various emotions; from delight, through tearful melancholy, to pride clearly visible on the face of Porden Birsk. At 44, he was still an invariably good-looking man. His once dark auburn hair was now thickly streaked with grey. The wrinkles made him look more serious, but the roguish smile that was usually on his face and made dimples appear in his cheeks was unchanging and just as captivating. And any lady in their right mind who met the magnate was able to confirm this. 

When the words of a simple nursery rhyme fell silent, little Eris blinked a few times as if torn from a trance. Visibly embarrassed by the silence and the sound of sniffing noses, she clasped her hands behind her back and stared at the tips of her polished shoes. 

Porden was the first to applaud enthusiastically and was followed by the rest of the fifteen people invited for an intimate dinner and an evening with a cigar and a glass of brandy. 

The manufacturer got up from the sofa and walked over to the little girl, still staring at her shoes. 

“That was beautiful, puppet.” she looked up and met her foster father's proud gaze. She felt her little heart swell with joy; all she really wanted was for him to be proud of her. Birsk took her in his arms and, laughing, spun them around, starting a fit of giggles from his little daughter. 

Eris remembered his face forever then; laughing with crow's feet to his eyes and the light of lamps playing in his greying hair. 

“I can see that your project is developing interestingly Porden.” one of her father's guests said as he wrapped the tip of his imposing moustache around his finger. Birsk turned to the man with a hearty laugh, still holding the little girl in his arms. 

“Yes. You can even say that it's going simply... _singingly_.” 

XXX 

Eris stared at her reflection with distaste; adolescence had hit her with doubled strength over the past few months. She was still of measly height, but her arms and legs felt unnaturally long and graceless. At least her acne was covered in stage makeup thick enough to be virtually invisible. 

Her eyes fell on the red lipstick on the dressing table. She opened it and pulled it out, considering whether to use it. After a moment she put it down, deciding that the colour would clash too much with her blue dress. 

She wanted to look extra tonight knowing that her former friends would be in the audience. A group of little daughters of wealthy parents with whom she used to spend a lot of time with, who started talking behind her back and laughing at her when she started to get serious about music. It hurt at first, but daddy explained it was the result of their simpleminded jealousy. 

“ _The best you can do is move forward and be the most_ _admirable_ _of them all. Criticism doesn't apply to you_ _!_ _And remember; family comes first. Friends come and go._ _As long as we have each other, we are invincible._ ” 

There was a soft knock on her room door; after a while they opened and her father walked inside. His face lit up in a smile at the sight of her. 

“You look marvellous, Eris.” 

“Thank you.” she smiled, theatrically mimicking embarrassment. She was 14 years old; she had performed on the big stage for 7 years. Receiving compliments was second nature to her by then. 

“I’ve got something for you.” Birsk smiled fishing out a flat box from his elegant coat’s inner pocket. He opened it, watching Eris react and grinned gallantly as he saw her eyes widen with delight. On the navy-blue velvet lay a necklace of the most perfect pearls that could be obtained without the use of magic. 

“Daddy!” Eris gasped giddily. “They’re beautiful.” 

Porden put the box on her dressing table and took out the necklace, motioning his head for her to turn towards the mirror. 

“I was looking for them especially for you. You won't find another such perfect and natural necklace.” he said gently clasping the lock on the necklace around her neck. “I figured a perfect daughter deserves nothing but a perfect gift.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Happy birthday, puppet.” 

She turned in her chair and embraced him while still sitting, pressing her cheek against his stomach. 

“Thank you daddy.” she mumbled with a smile on her face. He stroked her head with a quiet hum. 

“Have a good show, Eris. Let me know how the case I asked for was resolved.” 

Eris raised her head, resting her chin on her father. She frowned uncertainly. 

“Daddy...are you sure Count Garreth is...a good target?” 

Birsk smiled again, still stroking her head, but this time there was something cold in that smile. 

“Of course. I told you what he did to his maids. He is a despicable man. You will do the world and me a favour when you end his wicked ways.” Eris nodded, still clearly unconvinced. “Come on, sweetheart, have I ever been wrong in such matters?” 

Eris straighten up, forcing her tense shoulders to relax and summoned a sweet smile on her face. 

“Okay daddy.” 

“Got the poison? Everything ready?” 

She nodded obediently. 

“Good girl.” Birsk beamed and touched her cheek tenderly. “We are going to the concert hall in twenty minutes. Get ready, young lady.” 

XXX 

“Advance! Cut! Coupe! Parry! Parry! Watch your feet! Faster! Eris, focus! FOCUS!” commands barked by Veles echoed in the training room. 

Eris felt that she was losing the rhythm and Veles, seeing it, beat her rapier with a circular parry, knocking it off her hand and put the tip of his weapon against her chin. Disappointment mixed with irritation showed on his face. 

“Too slow. Too clumsy.” he summed up lowering the blade and sweeping it into the scabbard. “Too emotional.” 

18 years old Eris huffed and tumbled to the floor, covering her face with her hands. Sweat stuck curls that slipped from her unruly bun to her forehead. She didn't care that she didn't look very lady-like in that moment. She stopped giving a damn about it outside the official gatherings. Besides she was with Veles. Veles cared even less. Unless it was about training. Sometimes he made her fight in dresses. 

_“_ _You wear them more than pants. You need to know how to fight in t_ _hem_ _. Nothing is more pathetic than a fighter stumbling over the hem of her dress._ _”_ he said one day. She had to admit that it showed her how to treat them simply as another piece of clothing, just less convenient for dynamic movement. 

She heard his soft step approaching her and when she opened her fingers, she met the questioning gaze of his yellow eyes. She covered her eyes again and let out a muffled, frustrated scream. Sometimes she just liked to act bratty just to blow off some steam and annoy her tutor. 

“You have to get better. It's about your survival. You have to be able to defend yourself.” he said in a bored voice, repeating this particular formula for probably hundredth time already. 

“I have my lute and Words.” 

“And what if someone cuts your fingers and that bad tongue out of that big mouth of yours?” the young man said; his tone dripped with irony. 

Eris shrugged stubbornly. 

“Then I will have nothing to live for.” 

“You have tons of reasons to live.” his tone was clipped. 

“Oh wow, silly me. Thanks for that revelation. Maybe you can give an example?” she asked sourly making him chuckle. 

“Well, you have something to live for. If only to prove to me that I am wrong in everything.” he said making her huff a laugh from behind her hands. 

Master Veles Lysbringer was her seventh fencing teacher in the last 10 years. All previous Eris had exhausted mentally. She was the bane of all teachers; at first glance, the sweet and innocent petite girl, made even the most hardened veterans cry with her ruthless tongue and ever-expanding powers that she tested by looking at how much she could mess with their heads. 

When her father brought Veles home for the first time four years earlier, 14-year-old Eris did not even look up from the book she was reading, propped up on the chaise longue in their smaller living room. Only when Veles introduced himself with his quiet, husky voice did she look at them and took a double take, narrowing her eyes at his sight. He looked only a few years older than she was. His thick, black hair hung halfway down his back, framing his long, impassive face. The smooth skin of his cheek was cut by a ragged pink scar extending from the left corner of his mouth and disappearing behind the high collar of his shirt. The black ink stood out in shocking contrast on the pale skin of his hands. The rest of the tall, slender body was all hidden under the simple black swordsman's outfit. But perhaps the most memorable thing about Veles were his shocking yellow eyes which pierced the interlocutor with a dispassionate gaze. 

She immediately knew that this time her father had brought someone different than the others who had fled while teaching her. 

Their first year was spent in constant skirmishes and arguments. It quickly turned out that mental tricks and her magic did not work on her new tutor. The first time she tried to sow fear in his head, he just looked at her in surprise raising an eyebrow and then with a nasty smile showing his too sharp for a human (which he claimed to be) fangs, he made her run around the room until she collapsed from exhaustion. Every time she stopped or slowed, he waved his finger and the soles of her shoes suddenly burned her feet, forcing her to keep running. 

When she went to complain to her father, he, to her surprise, he only said: 

“ _Li_ _sten to Veles, he's a really special teache_ r. _The boy knows everything about_ _anything_ _that can cut and what can be shot from_ **_._ ** **”**

That prompted Eris to go snooping in Veles' past. It didn't do much for her; everyone only heard that he was a perfect swordsman. The most gifted of the gifted. His skill set him above his low birth, and at an early age gave him mountains of gold and a schedule crammed with teaching the wayward children of rich parents. Until Porden Birsk offered him so much money, he gave up teaching other children to look after Eris. 

She quickly realized that it was true; she did not get any special fare from him because she was the daughter of a powerful magnate. If she did not parry well enough, she ended up bruising her arms, legs, ribs, and sometimes even her face as her teacher's training sword hit the target. He didn't care about the upcoming concert or ball she was going to go to the next day. 

_“_ _I'm here to teach you to survive in one piece. Nothing else interests me._ _”_ He said in one training session when she was extremely capricious . “ _You can be the new prophetess of_ _Kairagord_ _romanticism, be at the queen's court every other day, and your singing can turn stone to gold. If you don't learn to hold this rapier_ _properly_ _, I'll break your fingers, girl._ _”_

It was three years earlier. A lot of things have changed during that time. 

“You've been distracted lately.” he purred quietly sitting on the floor beside her. “Is something going on?” 

She glanced at him from between her fingers again. He looked genuinely concerned. It took a while for her to learn to read the emotions besides what he wanted to show. When it finally turned out that he was capable of something other than ruthless irony, disappointment, harsh criticism, or that unnamed, predatory mood that a good fight put him into, she began to enjoy talking to him. 

She got up and looked at her hands grimly. 

“Do you sometimes feel that you have no control over your fate?” she asked quietly. He hummed softly. 

“I have felt like this for some time now. But I hope this is temporary. To be honest I have nothing else left.” 

“Why are you feeling this way?” she frowned. 

“What? You think you're the only prisoner in this house? “he asked with a crooked smile but he became serious immediately. “Did he tell you to do something you don't want to again?” 

Eris hesitated and finally nodded. 

“In fact, I've already done it. Some time ago I provided him with information thanks to which he bought over a dozen buildings on Thyme Street.” 

Veles' eyes widened when he heard that. 

“It’s about that girl, right? Islarose?” 

Eris nodded again this time feeling her eyes glazing with tears. 

“Her family has a bakery there. That's all they have. And my father wants to demolish these buildings and build another part of the factory there.” 

The man ran a weary hand across his face. 

“I’m so sorry, Eris...” 

She shook her head blinking the tears away. 

“She will hate me for it...I didn't know what exactly was in those documents but...” 

“It is not your fault.” Veles cut her off; there was an unusual venom in his voice, an anger that he rarely showed openly. He pursed his lips and stood up briskly walking to the window. Eris could have sworn she could see the emotions buzzing within him, just below the surface of the usually stone-cold calmness. She had never seen him like this before. 

“Everything will be okay.” he said finally after a moment of silence, turning to her with a slight smile. He approached her with a soft step picking up her rapier along the way and offered her his hand. “Until then, you must become as strong as possible.” Eris took his hand and stood up with his help taking her weapon from him. Then Veles bowed theatrically, with a sweeping gesture tearing the invisible hat off his head and touching the back of her hand with his forehead. “Will you do this honour to me, my lady, and dance with me?” Involuntarily, Eris laughed at it and, following the antics, she curtsied politely and fanned her eyelashes furiously in the most kitschy and exaggerated way she had seen in other girls at balls when they tried to show interest in the young bachelors. 

“Why, yes master Lysbringer, I’d love to dance with you.” she exclaimed, putting her hand to her forehead in a dramatic gesture. She was rewarded with a blinding Veles smile showing his full set of teeth along with sharp fangs. He squeezed her hand reassuringly and stepped back and, taking the exit pose, exclaimed: 

“STANCE!” 

XXX 

“HOW COULD YOU?!” Islarose screamed, throwing her glass against the wall. It shattered into thousands of rainbow-colored pieces glistening in the dim candlelight. 

She turned to Eris, who was sitting on her bed with her head bowed, looking at her leather boots; the cold penetrated her body as she sat in the modest room above the shop part of the bakery which was occupied by the other girl. It was raining outside, and her hood, coat, and pants were all soaking wet. 

“You have to tell him! You have to stop him!” the half-elf's voice broke with a mixture of anger and despair. Eris lifted her head and looked at her, feeling as if someone was tearing her apart. 

Those sapphire eyes, now glazed with tears and fired with hatred. 

Those soft, dark curls falling down her proudly straightened back 

Those wonderfully soft lips, contorted at that moment by a scornful grimace. 

Her Rose. She had been her muse and lover for over a year since Eris saw her at the flower market one spring day. 

“I can't. You won't be safe if I tell him we have something together.” 

“So what? You're ashamed of me?” she hissed venomously, wanting to inflict the same pain she clearly felt. Eris felt only anger. She jumped to her feet and asked, not even trying to be gentle: 

“Do you have a death wish?! I told you what kind of person my father is! He is not a warm, open-minded person like yours. He's not _good_ .” she spat the last word with dis gust; she stopped believing in _good_ people years ago. 

“Yes! I can see it!” Islarose let out a hysterical laugh, throwing her arms up in frustration. “Let me guess? Am I not important enough to be a good match for his wonderful little daughter? Too poor? Too stupid? Too little influence?” 

“It's not about that...” 

“Or is it that I am a mongrel?!” 

“NO!” Eris pressed her clenched fist against her temple, feeling her rage slowly boil to dangerous volumes. “Rose, can you hear yourself?! Is that what you think of me?! I LOVE YOU!” 

Islarose looked away, pursing her lips; her cheeks were already wet with tears that rolled over them in a free stream. 

“It doesn’t matter.” she finally said softly. “We won't be here by the end of the week. We are going to the countryside to my aunt and uncle.” she added seeing the bard’s questioning look. 

Eris put her face in her hands and sat back. For a moment the only sounds in the room were heavy raindrops hitting the window sill and Islarose's soft sniffling. 

Everything was wrong. Why is the last thing she had "for herself" had to end like this? 

“This is your last chance...to say something to stop me from leaving...” the half-elf's voice was almost inaudible. 

Eris froze. Say? Words? It was her life. Nobody could talk as much and in the way she could. Words opened all the paths in her life, solved problems and untangled tongues, gave peace and started wars. Words brought over the right people and scared away those she wanted to keep at bay. They won hearts. They gave her food and bedding. Words made her. 

Words like foam on the lips of the poisoned a prominent gnome politician who had died a few days earlier. Words like blood flowing from a gunshot wound in a disobedient city guard captain who walked in the evening after his shift to his wife and children. Words like gold coins changing hands with the clang of a heavy stuffed purse. Words like torn tendons and bent necks of her father's factory workers working till their last breath. 

Words were her life. But Eris knew when to keep quiet. Silence was golden for her too. 

“Hope you will have a good life.” she said flatly then got up and left the room. 

As she stepped out into the street in the pouring rain, she felt the gaze of Islarose, standing in the window, on herself. It felt as if it was accompanying her all the way to the Birsk family estate. She did not cry. At least she thought so, because her face was wet with rain anyway. 

Fate then spared her the knowledge of what was about to happen a few months later, when a wave of massacres swept through the western part of the kingdom. If she knew that her beloved's entire family would be butchered. If she had known it was the last time, she would see Islarose...then she would definitely have used her Words. 

XXX 

“How long she hasn’t left her room?” 

Her mind was numb. Just like the body that a few hours ago collapsed on an unmade bed in a drunken amok. She let out a shuddering breath and felt her lips and tongue are dry as a desert. 

She tried to move, but all she managed to do was loosen the fingers that were clutching the neck of the empty wine bottle. The glass rolled over the sheets hanging in a wave from her bed and landed on the floor with a loud click. 

There was a moment of silence outside the door before she heard her maid, Kristy, speak with her strong accent. 

“It's been a week, Master Lysbringer. We don't know what happened. She just came home and shut herself there. All she asked for was alcohol...I haven't seen our little lady ever drink so much.” the woman sounded concerned. “We thought about informing Mr. Birsk because it cannot go on like that any longer. The young lady also has obligations.” 

“Don’t...bother him. I know what happened. I'll get her out of there and try to get her on her feet. Go back to other duties and don't stress about it, Kristy.” 

There was a loud sigh and Kristy’s voice again: 

“Okay, Master Lysbringer...If you think you can convince this stubborn girl to anything, good luck...” 

For a moment, only the maid's brisk footsteps could be heard. When the silence fell, there was a soft knock on the door which tore Eris's head with a shooting pain. 

“I’m going in and I really hope you are decent.” he didn't sound like he was joking. Eris covered her eyes with her hand; she was as decent as someone so hungover could be. Her half-awake mind managed to register that she was still wearing a dressing-gown and was more or less covered. 

Veles walked into the room wrinkling his nose 

“It stinks in here.” 

She made a hoarse grunt but still couldn’t say a word; her mouth was like filled with dirt. She heard Veles walking around the room in his characteristic way, putting his feet softly, like an overgrown cat. Even the pieces of vases and small knick-knacks that had fallen victim to her drunken rage did not crunch under his heels. 

“What’s your poison, love?” she heard him pick something up from the floor. “Cheap wine? Hm, go figure.” another few steps and her curtains opened with a loud rustle letting in a wave of daylight. 

She felt a sudden wave of nausea and desperately waved her hand to close the curtains. She turned on her side, with her back to the window, but the curtains stubbornly swung open again. She waved her hand again to close it, but this time a second after it got dark, she heard a loud rumble as if something heavy had fallen. Light streamed into the room again, and no matter how much she waved her hand, the curtains were not fulfilling their proper function. Veles tore them down. 

In a fit of despair, she felt for a piece of bedding and pulled it over herself, closing in a cocoon of darkness and muffled sounds. Her head throbbed with pain that brought more waves of nausea and chaotic thoughts with it. 

“Leave me alone...” she finally managed to say with a voice resembling more of a loud, hoarse whisper than her proper melody. There was a moment of silence that made her hopeful that maybe Veles listened to her and just left. 

No such luck. 

“It’s really pathetic.” she heard a faint rustle, like he was looking at the papers on her desk. “To be crying over a simple elvish whore like that...” 

Her heart stopped for a second and then suddenly started beating twice as fast. The numbing pain she felt in her head moved to her chest and the realisation of the last few days came crashing down. She felt as if memories alone where enough to kill her there on the spot. 

But they weren't enough to snuffle out the all-consuming rage Veles's words caused. 

“What did you say?” he voice came out stronger this time. 

“You heard me. Or are you not only stupid but also deaf?” she heard him snicker mockingly. “She had to be a one marvellous fuck if you're despairing after her so much.” 

“SHUT UP!” 

She couldn't even tell when she jumped to her feet and threw an empty wine bottle at him. He ducked effortlessly allowing the bottle to crash on the wall behind him. Eris, on the other hand, fell to her knees, feeling her stomach and labyrinth protest loudly against this sudden change of position. She pressed a shaking hand to her abdomen feeling sick. 

“You are angry Eris?” he laughed freely walking slowly to her. “Do you hate me for mocking your sweet, sweet and so very dead Islarose?” 

“Fuck off. Shut your mouth.” she growled feeling a bile rise in her throat. She spat on the floor, partly to get rid of the bad taste in her mouth and partly to show her contempt for him. 

Veles laughed again and this time there was something uncannily hysteric in that sound. 

“Make me. If you can’t defend your dead girl, nobody can.” 

She launched towards him wanting to do something, anything to make him stop twisting that knife that sat firmly in her heart. But she was too slow and too short and before her fist reached the target, he grabbed her wrist in a vice-like grip, making her yelp in pain. His hold softened quickly and a sadness Eris had never seen before appeared on his face. She started thrashing in his grip. 

“Shut up! Shut up! LEAVE ME ALONE!” she wailed furiously punching his chest with a clenched fist. “LEAVE ME ALONE AND LET ME DIE.” 

“No.” he whispered softly. 

Eris felt her knees buckle under her. Suddenly she felt as if there was no air in her lungs. As soon as she tried to inhale, she had the feeling that her chest was collapsing on its own and the black hole in the place of her heart was absorbing everything, including the life-giving oxygen. She opened her mouth like a fish taken out of water, feeling the panic rise. With the last of her strength, she began to cry pitifully. 

“Please, kill me...Veles...I can’t take that anymore...I can’t...” 

“No.” 

When he felt her slump to the floor, he pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and resting the other hand her head. He sank to his knees with her, taking deep breaths. She started to breathe with him and after a while she managed to even out her breathing into a shallow little huffs. Her head spun and her lungs burned like she just ran a mile. 

Eris tried to focus on other sensations around her; the rough texture of his shirt under her cheek, the sharp shards of broken porcelain digging into her knees, warmth and a thumping heart beside her that made her realise that she too still has a heart and a beating pulse. 

That didn't stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks. 

“I’m tired Veles...I can’t do this... I miss her so much...I’m alone, all alone...” his hands twitched slightly at that. 

“You’re not alone Eris...” she heard his quiet voice. “I’m so sorry I’ve said this... But I can't let you wallow in despair.” 

“I am alone. I don’t have anything left...My life, my mind, my reputation...even my art are not mine...They’re tainted...I’m tainted...” she mumbled squeezing her eyes shut. 

“Tainted but, oh, how beautifully so...” Eris heard him mumble into her hair. It seemed to her that the words were not supposed to reach her ears. Veles moved away gently to look at her face. “You felt that anger. Not at me...” she nodded weakly. “Good. You are not sad anymore, at least not entirely. You are mad. Furious. Hold on to that. You know who deserves that fury. Latch on to it because it’s the only emotion he won’t be able to take away from you. He’ll take your happiness, he’ll forbid you grieve, he will even try to appropriate your love to look as he pleases. Only your anger and hatred will make you free.” He pulled her gently against him again. Eris pressed her face to his chest without resistance and breathed deeply into his scent; she felt safe. Maybe it was the result of emotional exhaustion and how she craved for any kind of intimacy. Maybe it was just the fact that after Rose died, Veles was actually the only person she trusted. 

He stroked her back soothingly in thoughtless patterns and continued in quiet but firm voice: 

“Latch on to it and there will come a moment when one day his empire will burn down from your fury.” 

XXX 

“Soooo...who’s on the menu today?” Veles purred as if suddenly materializing next to her as she stood on the side-lines of the ballroom. He did it quite often; he had something feline about him, which also showed in his tendency to disappear and appear in a noiseless manner. 

Eris almost jumped up, but at the last moment she stopped herself. She wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. She just threw him a reproachful look and returned to lazily watching the people in the room. The mighty of Kairagord wandered out and about in their costly costumes, babbling nonsense and getting ready for truly meaningful conversations after half of the less significant society became sick from the alcohol sitting at the tables or just engaged in a fiery dance of hopelessly drunken people. 

A moment ago, she was involved in this horribly worthless small talk. But sensing the wave of imminent yawning, she excused herself with an empty glass and flew away from a group of aging counts and countesses. 

Years have passed since the last time she had a good time at any ball. Dresses and corsets quickly began to crush her, her shoes hurt her feet, and her hair pulled because of the intricate updo's they were put into. 

This evening was no different. She already had calluses on her feet from her new shoes, and the underwires in the gold and blue corset sewn into her high-collared dress were digging painfully under her breasts. 

Well...at least Veles was there this time. 

He abandoned his everyday simple attire in favour of velvet doublet and simple trousers tucked into high boots. All black because _of course_. Eris suspected that this man would drop dead if he wore a different colour. 

“Why do you think someone's on the menu today, hmm?” 

"Oh, I know that full of endless boredom look." He chuckled darkly, his yellow eyes sweeping through the crowd with disinterest. 

“I am moved, Veles. I had practiced this face all my miserable life. It's good to know that I convey what I feel so perfectly.” she gasped theatrically by placing hand on her breast with a with a sullen expression. He smiled in his cat-like manner and clicked their champagne glasses together. 

“If I guess who you are brainwashing tonight, will you agree to dance with me?” 

She couldn't help but grin at the question. For some time now, she had the strange feeling that their relationship has shifted in some elusive way. Neither of them has said or done anything yet to prevent them from withdrawing to the safe "friends" zone. Up to this point, apparently. 

For a while now they had been spending more time together, meeting not only in training and in the corridors of the manor. Veles turned out to be not only a thankful sparing partner, but also a companion for conversation, drinking and even looking for trouble in the dark streets of the capital city. 

She was healing and he kept her company making sure she wouldn't slip back into despair. 

“But no rapiers?” she asked. 

“Only us.” 

“Okay.” she shrugged with a laugh. “Tell me who’s on the menu today and we can dance.” 

Veles looked around the crowd, taking another sip of champagne. Suddenly his lips, pressed on the rim of the glass, twitched into a smile. 

“Mr. Marlowe. The one from the lime mine, east of the capital.” 

Eris felt her mouth goes slack. 

“Wait...how?” she asked genuinely shocked. 

“Well...I can tell you on the dance floor.” the man bowed gallantly and offered her a hand. 

She snorted at it softly and was about to take his hand and let him lead her to the dance floor when an unfamiliar male voice spoke from the side. 

“Miss Herby, will you honour me with a dance?” She looked at the impertinent and recognized him as the youngest Wooddancer. 

_Damien...I guess?_ she thought. Wooddancers have never been targeted by her actions. Mainly because their stable business in the form of a sawmill in a moderately attractive neighbourhood and the absolute lack of political commitment did not make them interesting objects. 

She looked at Veles, wanting to make a face at him to show what she thought about it, but he had already lowered his hand and moved away from her considerably. 

"Go ahead. We'll catch up another time" he was smiling but his tone was oddly strained. Virtually imperceptible, but she knew him well enough to feel it. 

“Uhmmmm...okay?” she was confused but apparently that ‘okay’ was everything that Damien needed to take her hand and lead her to the dancefloor. She reluctantly turned away from Veles still frowning but she turned back when she heard him call out her name. 

“Happy birthday, love.” this time his smile was sincere. 

XXX 

Their beer mugs collided with a loud click, and the amber liquid instantly foamed furiously. Eris and Veles quickly brought their mugs closer to drink the disobedient drink. 

“Cheers!” Veles called with a wide smile watching her lick of the rest of the foam of her lips. “For the new path of life!” he took a sip of his beer as he leaned back slightly in his chair; he had recently cut his hair, and Eris still couldn't get used to the fact that it hung freely up to his shoulders instead of sweeping somewhere on the floor as he sat. 

The pub was loud, full of happy people enjoying their evening off and the proximity to alcohol and fatty food. Soft, golden light played in the cups and glasses and polished wood of the bar. The air smelled like beer, smoke and something she recognised as the blade polishing fluid Veles used. 

“Come on. A new path of life? It sounds like I joined a convent.” she snorted. 

“Engagement is serious business! Damien Wooddancer, ey?” he snickered in a mocking manner. “Never took you for someone with a basic taste in men.” 

“Fuck off!” Eris laughed and slapped her friend on the shoulder. “Shall I remind you of Arolla Ghont?” 

“You see, Eris, Arolla was a very small person with a very beautiful soul and a very, very large...” he cut off with a shit-eating grin.”...libido. Me, on the other hand, I had very...” 

“High level of alcohol in the system. Yeah, I’ve been there, seen that carriage-wreck. Anyway, I don't know what your problem with Damien is.” 

Veles shrugged and took another long sip of beer before answering vaguely: 

“Absolutely nothing. It’s just...Arolla had character. And Damien...” he pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows as if to let her know he didn't know exactly what to say. “He is ideal, it seems.” 

“That’s something bad?” Eris asked frowning and he shrugged. 

“It's just...such people don't exist.” 

“Well, he does...” 

“I just think it’s a funny coincidence that right when you wanted to leave your father’s toxic company suddenly the perfect male specimen appeared and made you stay.” he made that face again. 

“That again? Veles you can’t be so paranoid all the time!” she rolled her eyes when he grumbled something that sounded like ‘ _I can_ _,_ _and I will_ ’. “Damien and my father didn’t know each other before I made them acquaintance.” 

Instead of answering her, he put the mug to his mouth and gulped down almost all of his beer. Eris stared at it with huge eyes. It was...quite an unusual behaviour for him. When he put down his mug, he looked at her with a crooked smile. 

“You are absolutely right!” His mouth was wet with foam, and as his tongue ran over his lips, she realized how intensely she was staring at him. She quickly lifted her gaze up only to meet met that of Veles who was watching her with an unreadable expression. He continued carefully picking his words. “We’re here to celebrate your happiness. And I would never try to step in the way of your happiness. Probably only if it meant your continued captivity and harm...” 

“What do you mean?” she felt that her mouth went dry. 

“Not to sound cheesy...but there are people who, in my humble opinion, deserve the world. You are one of them.” 

“Veles...” he raised his hand to signal to let him finish and leaned over the table in her direction; his yellow eyes seemed almost iridescent in the pale light of the lamps. There was something dangerous and predatory about his face that she hadn't seen before that made her shiver. She wouldn't exactly call it a bad shiver...but it was there. 

“But I also think that there are people who deserve to have their entrails feed the ravens. And that...you can only guess who I have in mind.” 

She looked away; Veles seemed uncomfortable since she started seeing Damien. Her relationship with her father improved during this time; he no longer asked her for as many "favours" as he used to. Actually, at all, lately. 

Everything...everything started to look as it should...at least in her head. Since things changed, it meant there was a chance they would stay that way. 

Right? 

“Forget it.” Veles' voice snapped her out of her thoughts. He waved at the waitress. “Another round, please!” he looked at Eris with a mischievous grin and winked at her making her heart flutter. “Hurry up, love. The night is still young.” 

XXX 

Eris giggled like a fool; her arm wrapped around Veles' waist for balance. 

“So many years of drinking and you're still a featherweight.” Veles grumbled holding his arm around her shoulders. 

“Yoooou're the one with an absurdly high alcohol tolerance...mmmmister...Mister Party Killer!” she giggled again; she wasn’t mad for him for taking her from the pub mainly because her silly, drunken brain was flooded with a wave of endorphins labelled ‘ _mmm, Veles_ _close_ _’._ Never mind that before he leaned her against him, he said: 

“ _Just don't throw up my coat or I'll_ _belt_ _your ass._ " s he started giggling in an uncontrolled way after that , so much that her stomach hurt. “ _Why are you giggling? It was supposed to be a threat, not a promise. Heavens, you’ve got a twisted mind,_ _woman._ ” 

They were about halfway to the estate, in a small well-kept park adjacent to one of those rich streets that looked like every other rich street that ever existed, when suddenly Eris felt that the world around is spinning too fast for her liking. 

“W-wait...” she pushed herself from his embrace towards one of the old oaks growing along the neat park alley. She leaned with her back on the tree trunk with a silent huff; the dizziness made Veles look as if she was watching him through a kaleidoscope. She squeezed her eyes shut. 

“Easy, easy.” he sighed and helped her bend slightly. 

“You were right. It wasn't worth finishing that last one.” 

“I'm right most of the time.” 

She slowly straightened herself up, taking care not to spark another wave of spinning. She looked up only to meet Veles' half amused and half irritated gaze. He raised an eyebrow as she watched him blinking like an owl. 

“What?” 

“Whyyy, are you so tall?” she mumbled making the man snort. 

“Because I wasn’t such a brat like you when I was a kid.” 

“That’s...not an explanation...you...you are a handsome bastard you know?” 

“Oh void...you are so drunk” he murmured crossing his arms over his chest. Eris broke away from the tree with a sweeping gesture and embraced her companion's waist, pressing her cheek against his chest. 

“Hug me!” she whined. He sighed softly, grabbed her shoulders and leaned in to meet her eyes. 

“Get a grip princess. We need to get you to your castle.” 

However, Eris stopped listening to him the moment her eyes fell on his lips. Of course, what she had done, she could boldly blame on her drunken state, but as she thought about it in retrospect, she knew that no matter how she defended herself, it was a 100% conscious decision when she gently climbed onto her toes and pressed her lips to Veles Lysbringer's lips, cutting him off in mid-sentence as he took a breath to continue berating her. 

Before she closed her eyes, she saw his eyes widen for a second in surprise. But then she felt one of his hands slide down her waist and the other tangle into her hair as he kissed her back with a soft growl. She felt her back gently meet the oak trunk as Veles pressed her to him in a hungry embrace. 

Eris would be lying if she had never pictured that moment. Her overactive imagination had given her various scenarios since the thought of having feelings for her friend and former teacher had sprouted in her head for the first time. It was her curse, but she could live with it without doing anything stupid. At least she had thought so until then, when her foggy mind focused entirely on how his lips felt good against her and how he smelled like smoke and whisky he's been drinking for the majority of the night. 

After a long moment Veles moved away from her, gently holding her lower lip in his teeth; he looked at her, eyes narrowed and gaze smouldering. He freed her lip with a last feather-like kiss before chuckling darkly. 

“It was very stupid.” 

“I don’t think so...” She replied wanting to sound cockily, but her voice was an airy whisper. 

“I know you well enough to know that in the morning you will feel guilty about it. That that’s a scummy thing to do to Damien, no matter how much you want it.” 

“You don’t want it?” she asked making him grin wickedly. 

“I know I would feel like shit taking advantage of you in that state. Otherwise...I don’t give a flying fuck about Wooddancer.” he straightened up, releasing her from his arms, which immediately made her feel cold. “Let's catch a carriage before we do any another stupidity on the way back.” 

XXX 

The dining room was filled with chatter of guests and the clink of cutlery and goblets being put away. 

The atmosphere was quite tense; Eris had an argument with her father literally 15 minutes before dinner. She refused to do another task. This time it was about the queen's chamberlain. 

“ _No. I won’t do it._ ” 

“ _He has the information I need, puppet._ ” 

“ _I value my life, daddy._ ” 

Their arguments were always the same; cold and impassive. Porden was becoming silent and less jovial than usual, and Eris just ignored it. 

The dinner was one of the sumptuous but "intimate" ones where Birsk invited some of his current closest associates along with their wives who happened to be in the capital. 

Eris sat at her father's right hand slicing up a piece of steak without interest; her appetite has been non-existent lately. Kristy laughed that it was the stress of the bride-to-be and that Eris was afraid of gaining weight before the wedding. 

The truth was, she thought about cancelling her wedding entirely. For last weeks she had carefully analysed her feelings and Damien's behaviour and had reluctantly to agree with Veles; Damien was perfect in the most disturbing and uncanny way she had ever seen. 

And it wasn't even about his perfect manner, appearance and quick mind. 

He was acting like he was reading her mind. He knew when she felt a surge of inspiration so he encouraged her to write melodies and lyrics. He could tell when she was sad or irritated, and he would always show up with a box of chocolates or flowers. When she was furious with her father, he could always say something and portray his behaviour and reasons as "taking care of the family". At first, she was very sceptical about this approach, but after some time his words and calm, rational arguments suppressed her anger and defiance. 

Even the day after that unfortunate evening, when she kissed Veles, after she woke up consumed by a nasty guilt, Damien came and took her for a lovely walk along the promenade. As if feeling that something is wrong… 

She tried not to fall into paranoia but was starting to feel anxious because whenever she felt negative emotions, Damien would appear as if by magic, even when she was showing nothing outside. 

But what chilled her the most was when she caught Damien rummaging through on of her journals with lyrics of the songs she wrote and never played to anyone. She snatched it from him as soon as she saw he was holding it. He apologized long and densely, explaining that he thought it was her schedule. 

From then on, she always made sure they were hidden in a different place when when she left the house. There was nothing more intimate to her than the songs she wrote for herself. She could redo the entire Kamasutra with someone 10 times, exchange most of their body fluids with them, and talk with them for 10 years non-stop; this person would not know her half as well as someone who read her texts. 

Her reverie was disturbed by her father's conversation with his current "favourite" business partner, Colonel Smithson. She stuffed some green peas on a fork while she listened as they talked about the last auction of royal lands in the north of the country. 

“Anything else you got there, Porden?” Colonel asked with his mouth full of roast. 

“Just this small plot of land, about 20 hectares of forest and a small water reservoir.” Birsk smiled. “I was thinking of building a holiday home there for Eris and her fiancé.” 

“Wasn't it, by chance, the auction where you bought that 100 hectare area where you want to start an open pit mine after cutting the forest? Am I right, daddy?” Eris cut in loudly, getting herself some salad from a nearby platter. She could feel the eyes of the rest of the revellers, and the most burning was her father's. “This is probably the same to which the expert you bribed gave the opinion that it was completely deprived of coal deposits, right? 

“What is she talking about, Birsk?” Colonel Smithson growled; he was one of the people who dropped out of the auction after the publication of this particular opinion. 

Eris looked at him with a sweet smile. 

“Oh, you didn’t know? I thought there were no secrets among friends. My bad.” she took the last sip of wine from her glass, wiped her mouth with the edge of her napkin, and stood up. “Thank you for dinner, ladies and gentlemen. Unfortunately, I have to say goodbye to you, because tomorrow I have a concert and I still have to practice the repertoire and warm up my vocal cords. I wish you a great evening!” 

As she left, she looked at her father; his green eyes stared at her with cold fury. 

Her insubordination would have consequences. 

XXX 

It was one of those evenings when she couldn't sleep. 

So, she sat in her fluffy robe thrown over her pyjamas with thick socks on her feet in her private reading room. Immersed in a huge, plush armchair, she thoughtfully plucked the lute strings, looking for the right note. When she was satisfied with the one she found, she leaned over her journal and wrote it down over the appropriate part of text. 

Outside the window the garden was covered with white fluff. 

Eris liked snow. 

Snow was beautiful and soft and lethal at the same time. It brought silence and peace to the world, muffling the noise that reigned in him; like a wife pressing a pillow on the face of a sleeping tyrant husband. 

Moments of such peace gave her hope that one day her life could be like that. When, under the soft light of the lamp, she poured her emotions onto paper, closing them in this way, sealing them so that they would not interfere with her everyday life. 

Some of her texts were secrets and stories that she learned, while spying for her father, and that touched some strings in her soul. Some of it was her raw emotions that she couldn't show otherwise. Some were about people she met and decided to commemorate this way. She was still crying looking at the songs she wrote about Islarose. Some of them were her own secrets that she did not tell anyone. Some...some were things she had to throw out or she would explode; whether it's out of anger, despair or lust. 

Today she was working on a melody for one of these lyrics. 

Those few lines haunted her. There was something wrong with the melody at this point, and she had rewritten it several times already. 

She shifted in the armchair, tucking one leg under her and laying the other one on the cold stone floor. Grabbing the lute, she closed her eyes, starting to gently pluck the strings and let herself be carried away by the melody. She focused on her emotions, focused on making the sound their outlet. 

She couldn't grasp it... although she felt it was somewhere close, literally at her the tips of her fingers... 

Her heart almost leaped out of her chest when a knock on the door broke her out of her trance. 

“Fuck.” she breathed out before saying louder. “Come in!” 

Veles silently slipped into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The sight of her brought a smile to his face unlike any other she had seen. Something between bitter sadness and tenderness. 

Eris suddenly felt...naked. Only she would enter her reading room and, occasionally, Kristy when she called her for meals when she would disappear in there for days. So, when Veles walked in there looking at her in his typical, exploratory way, she wanted to wrap herself in her bathrobe and bury herself in one of the piles of books. 

“H-hi...” she squeaked. 

“Hi.” he replied quietly, walking over to her and taking a pile of books off the stool to sit on it. Eris noticed a very long package that he kept under his arm and which he put aside as soon as he sat down. “Could’ve guessed that you’d be hiding here.” 

She breathed out a weak laugh; she had actually been hiding. For several days now. Mainly from Damien, who, attracted by her bad mood, showed up at their house the day after she spoiled her father's dinner with Colonel. But also, just a little, from her father; she knew he would find a way to take revenge on her for that outburst. 

Her escapism had lasted several days now and she hoped silently that her father was away for business and was too busy to bother with her. 

“Damien has been...bothering me lately. I had to cut myself off for a while.” she said softly as she brought her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. 

“Are you working on something specific now?” he glanced at the pages of melody and lyrics scattered around her. His eyes shone palely in the light of a single lamp; he looked tired, or maybe it was just the shadows that played on his face. 

Her heart skipped a beat when she thought of...a very stupid idea. Lately she had felt that those started to outweigh the good ones. 

“Yeah...I just can’t get it right... I've been rewriting this so many times that I have the feeling that it's just not good...” she straightened and reached for the lute. “Maybe you can tell me if something is missing?” 

He smiled and nodded. She tugged gently on the strings, tuned them lightly and adjusted herself on the chair, tucking one leg under her. She closed her eyes and thought about her emotions again, but this time, she also thought about the man sitting next to her. She began to play softly and after a while began to sing. 

“ _Cinnamon in my teeth_   
_From your kiss, you're touching me..._ ” 

People described he voice differently; ‘the singing of the nightingale’, ‘mesmerizing’, ‘siren song’ or, to her deep contempt, ‘angelic voice’. 

She didn't like reading reviews of her performances, but her father would sometimes read them aloud at breakfast, when they were still eating it together. She felt that these descriptions had little to do with her art; they did not reflect what she felt, they did not reflect what she considered important in her performances. On the other hand, her most private and authentic texts were usually buried somewhere in her underwear drawer. 

Some time ago she realized that her art became another facade behind which she was hiding from the world she was disgusted with. She missed preforming in front of small audiences made up of real people, not rich clowns who concealed their true nature behind valuables, expensive clothes and fancy words. 

Eris wanted to appear in front of shopkeepers, low-level officials, artisans, laborers and small entrepreneurs, in front of poets, street actors and beggars, in front of thieves, murderers and bandits, in front of peasants who were just looking for a rest after a day in the fields. She wanted to sing about the real pains of life, not about champagne problems. Wanted to appear in front of ordinary people who would see in her only an artist, not a magnate's daughter, not a potential wife for their sons and a friend for their daughters, not a banquet decoration, not a spy and a murder in her father's service. To look into the eyes of ordinary people and draw inspiration from them. To see their authentic tears and pain as her music touches their most hidden emotions, to see them smile as they look at their loved ones and hear the melody and lyrics that remind them of them. 

She reached the chorus that was causing her the biggest problem and this time the melody came off her fingers exactly the way she wanted: 

“ _There's things I_ _wanna_ _say to you, but I'll just let you live_ _._   
_Like if you hold me without hurting me,_   
_You'll be the first who ever did_ _._ _”_

She looked up and met his wide-eyed gaze. He rested his chin on his palm listening to her clearly mesmerised. She looked down at her fingers, not wanting to be distracted. 

_“_ _There's things I_ _wanna_ _talk about, but better not to give_ _._   
_But if you hold me without hurting me_ _,_   
_You'll be the first who ever did_ _._ _”_

She continued until the end of the lyrics and as the last notes resounded in the air, she placed the lute on her lap, watching her hands tremble slightly. She had never felt so exposed to anyone, and it frightened her more than anything she had seen or done in her life. 

“I...” he started but paused huffing quietly looking for words. ”It...sounded completely different from your other performances...” 

“Some things aren't for everyone.” she said quietly trying to hide the tremble in her voice. 

“It sounded...wonderful.” Veles said after a long moment; his voice sounded strangely strained. “But I think there was one thing missing.” 

Eris looked up at him questioningly. 

“There was no ending.” he was not looking at her but out of the window into the white garden and the snow falling from the sky in a sparkling dance. “It is not known whether the person the narrator spoke to...eventually hurt her or not.” 

Eris shrugged weakly and put away her lute. 

“This story is not over yet. Maybe I will write an ending one day. But for now it is what it is.” 

They were silent for a moment, looking at the snowflakes, and finally Veles said softly: 

“I brought you something.” he reached for the package and laid it gently on her lap. 

“What is it? A whip?” she joked weakly making him huff with laughter and shake his head. 

“Such a foul mind, love. But no. Open it.” 

She tore the paper open and lifted the lid of a simple wooden box. When she saw what was inside, laid on the soft velour bedding she looked at him, shocked. 

“Your rapier?" 

“ _Your_ rapier.” he corrected her with a sad smile. “This is my farewell gift to you.” 

“Farewell...What?” 

“Your father...” his voice trembled a little and he broke off and shook his head with a bitter smile. “Your father terminated my contract. As he said...I did everything I was supposed to and much more.” he looked at her darkly. “I guess it's inappropriate for me to hang out around an engaged woman.” 

Eris just sat opening and closing her mouth, only shaking her head. She felt her eyes fill with tears. 

“I honestly admit that it coincided with other things that I have to take care of. I've been sitting here for a really long time.” he said absentmindedly. 

“W-what do you mean?” her voice stammered. 

“I was too comfortable here considering what my ultimate goal was. But...I was afraid that if I made just one mistake, even the slightest mishap, you would pay for it greatly. And at some point...you became for me more important than my original goal.” he spoke quickly as if he wanted to finally get rid of the burden he was carrying. “My superiors didn't like it; thought I lost my mind. But it was okay as long as I kept providing them with information.” 

“What was your goal?” she asked quietly clenching her fists so tightly that her nails pierced the inside of her palms. Somehow the pain kept her emotions in check. 

“I was sent here to kill your father.” 

Eris closed her eyes and the tears that had been swelling there, rolled freely down her cheeks, landing on her hands and the rapier still lying in her lap. His cold hand cupped her face and gently wiped away another tear that ran down her cheek. 

“Why didn't you do this?” he pursed his lips hearing that question. 

“Because if I had failed, your father would have fallen off the grid, first burning all the bridges behind him. You would be the first of them. Because you know too much about him. You may not know the full picture, but you are the only one who knows how he thinks and knows his individual plans.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“There have been...issues that my patrons want me to investigate. I'm leaving town tomorrow morning.” 

“I want to go with you. Take me with you.” her voice was hoarse as she choked out the demand but Veles only shook his head. 

“I can't believe I'm saying this, but you're safer here. I don't know what awaits me. This is definitely a greater danger than what we have seen so far. Greater than scheming and imperialist aspirations of your father.” he took her hand gently in his and Eris fixed her eyes on his tattoos; she always wondered what the symbols meant, but she never had a chance to ask him, or at least see anything other than his hands, which he often wore leather gloves on. “You'll be safer if you stay here.” 

“Why does everyone want to decide what's right for me?” she asked feeling a sudden rush of bitterness. 

Veles let go of her hand and cupped her face looking at her intensely. His eyebrows were knotted in pained expression and his eyes were glazed with tears. 

“I am selfish Eris. If I wasn't...I wouldn't be here anymore. I wouldn't talk to you. You'll be better off without me around.” He spoke slowly, drawing out every word. “I have taught you everything I could teach you. It's been a long time...I've stopped being your tutor a long time ago because you simply achieved everything you could in the training room. And still the most dangerous weapon you have ever held in your hand was your lute.” he smiled, and tears ran down his cheeks as well. “You can do it without me.” 

Eris leaned forward, bringing their foreheads together, and closed her eyes. Veles sighed quietly, running his fingers over her cheeks. 

“Will I see you again?” she whispered. 

“If you're lucky...no.” he replied with a bitter smile in his voice. 

XXX 

Eris stared at her reflection blankly. She knew her face and gradually became indifferent to it. The years passed and she lost her childish fat, her cheekbones sharpened and her nose and cheeks were covered with freckles more densely. Her a little too thick eyebrows formed a slight curve over her large violet eyes. The corners of her mouth fell down, giving her the appearance of a sad doll. Blonde hair fell in soft waves around her face and shoulders. 

It was her face. And it was ok. 

She picked up the brush and began to brush her hair, methodically detangling every knot she found. When she finished, she braided it. Then she took the powder and started applying makeup. Her movements were mechanical, learned, she could do it with her eyes closed. 

Her eyes fell on the red lipstick on her dressing table. She opened it and pulled it out, considering whether to use it. After a moment she leaned into the mirror and put it onto her lips making sure it was it was applied evenly 

When she finished, she reassessed her reflection; she wanted to look extra tonight because it was a special evening. 

Finding the effect sufficient, she reached into the dressing table drawer and took out a small, flat box. She opened it and took out a string of pearls that she had received from her father years earlier for her birthday. 

She fastened it and looked at her reflection for a moment. She smiled broadly, tilted her head, tried a different positioning of her mouth, with her teeth exposed and without. 

She stopped considering it was enough. It had to be enough. 

She had a few more things to do. 

An hour and a half later, she was already sitting in one of the smaller dining rooms with Damien and her father at dinner. 

_Family_ dinner, as her father emphasized. 

She had been an exemplary daughter for the past months. Veles' departure...broke her for a while. And her father apparently saw it, evidently ceasing to worry about her further insubordination. However, after this blow, she stood up with a firm determination that at least she would find out what was wrong with Damien, who practically did not leave her side, doing everything so that she would not be "sad". 

Most of the time she wasn't "sad", she just felt emptiness which seemed to baffle him. 

Once she managed to overhear his conversation with her father, when she left them alone in the parlour to "powder her nose". 

“ _I...think she's depressed Mr._ _Birsk_ _._ ” 

“ _Will there be any trouble from this?_ ” her father sounded uninterested. 

“ _Ugh...I don't know..._ ” Damien sounded uncertain. 

“ _As long as she is obedient, it's okay._ ” Birsk cut the topic off. 

After that, she did some research on her own and found some information about empaths; people who were remarkably attuned to the emotions of others. 

Different empaths had this skill developed to a different extent. Some have lived their entire lives without knowing that their empathy is almost supernaturally developed, while others have learned to use this skill consciously. 

One afternoon, when she managed to get rid of Damien and drive to the city alone, she met with Professor Yinh from the Royal University who, among other things, researched empaths. She presented her with a "hypothetical" situation in which an empath tunes in to a specific person and knows about all their emotions. She didn't give out many details, but the old woman looked at her sympathetically as if she guessed what had happened. 

“ _I've had such cases here before. And it has always been a very toxic arrangement in the long run._ _Such strong empaths become addicted to the emotions of the other person_ _. Especially when it comes to someone, they consider dependent on them._ _And this was true for ordinary couples where there was no._ _..third_ _party with its own agenda._ ” the professor shook her head with a sour expression. “ _If there is anything I could advice in such a situation, I would quickly cut off contact with the empath. It's best to go far away from...the source of the problem. This is the kind of manipulation that can go on for years without being noticed. And even if the manipulated person knows it, our minds have no way to defend against it._ ” 

She asked the older woman a few more questions and thanked her for the advice. On the departure, Professor Yinh wished her good luck. 

Actually, after this meeting, she came home with a new hat she claimed she went for as an excuse to go to town, and with the seed of a plan of revenge in her head. 

She looked at Damien, who told vividly an anecdote about the last hunt he had gone on with his cousins. She smiled as she watched him gesticulate with a barely suppressed laugh, slowly moving towards the punch line. Her father laughed sincerely listening to his future son-in-law. 

She almost regretted it all had been just a lie. 

She watched Damien sweeten his coffee as the only one of the three of them, and looked at him one last time, absorbing his face. 

His fawn hair, combed back, charming smile and pale blue eyes made him look very cute and innocent. All in all, Eris believed that Damien was innocent in all of this, that her father dragged him into it, and only because of this, the poor man would become the next victim in this tragedy that was her life. 

She reached into the fruit platter and picked up some strawberries. She took a sip of the champagne and didn't even flinch when she heard the choked gurgle coming from her fiancé mouth. She watched as her father, who was sitting in front of her, froze, staring at Damien sitting next to her, who has just started convulsing with foam gathering from his squeezed lips. She tore the stalk off the strawberry and pooped it to her mouth with a quiet, contented hum. 

The season had just begun and they were already so sweet. 

She took another sip of champagne and at that moment Damien arched backwards sharply, then leaned forward and hit his head with great force on the table, smashing his plate and glass as he froze for eternity uttering his last breath. 

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye; his face was deathly pale and his eyes were bloodshot and bulging. 

“I’ve always told him he uses too much sugar.” she said with a straight face, tearing the stalk off another strawberry. 

A heavy silence fell over the room; her father was looking at Damien's body as if contemplating something and Eris sipped champagne while humming softly and looking at the darkening sky outside the window. 

Finally, he broke the silence. 

“So, you found out.” 

“You thought I wouldn't?” she asked with a smile that looked almost sincere, slipping her hands off the table. 

“You are my daughter. I would be disappointed if you hadn't guessed.” he tore his eyes from the corpse of his would-be son-in-law and looked at her with a smile that looked like a very twisted smile of pride. “But I, probably naively, was hoping you would play along.” 

“I am your daughter. So, you should've guessed that I'm tired of being your _puppet_.” she drawled the last word in disgust. Her hand hidden under the table released the revolver slowly with a loud click. Her father's eyes widened for a split second. 

“What are you planning to do?” he asked. 

“I'm going to kill you and get out of here as far as I can.” 

“You won't do this.” he shook his head slowly with a small smile. 

“You think I don't have the guts to do this?” 

“Not at all.” he was still smiling in an almost tender way. “I just know that my sweetheart, obedient, little daughter, who just wanted Daddy to be proud of her, is still in there, somewhere inside that bitter monster sitting in front of me.” 

Several things happened at once in the next second; Eris yanked her revolver from under the table pointing it at her father's face. Birsk raised his hand and Eris flew back with the chair hitting the wall next to the dining room door with great force. Her shot hit somewhere on the far wall. 

The force of the blow knocked all the air out of her lungs, and as she slumped to the floor against the wall, she was convinced that at least one of her ribs was broken. She rose unsteadily but her father was already standing at the far end of the dining room and, casting one last glance in her direction, he muttered a few quick words and simply disappeared in a flash of purple light. 

“FUCK!” she roared, spitting blood on the ground. “MOTHERFUCKER!” 

“Miss Eris?” she heard a faint voice coming from the dining room door. She looked over there and saw very pale and trembling, Kristy. 

Well, there was still the last leg of her plan to go through. Only instead of hiding her tracks she would do it out of sheer spite. 

“Kristy, listen to me. You must do something for me. Very urgently.” 

Half an hour later, a petite, hooded figure walked through the streets of Kairagord City, in a completely opposite direction of the crowd of onlookers rushing towards the Birsk family mansion burning in the distance like a great funeral pyre. 

Later, the press reported that the staff had managed to escape entirely. They quoted the main maid, Kristy Vanderlie, who related how she noticed the smoke coming from the dining room. 

The cause of the fire was given as an accidental arson by Damien Wooddancer. The fire brigade and city police investigating the matter concluded that the young man lit a fire in the dining room fireplace under the influence of alcohol and fell asleep. Inadvertently, he did not put a protective grate in front of the hearth and the stray charcoal found its way onto the thick curtains that fed the flames. 

Damien was the only victim of the fire. 

Not counting the historic building which was one of the architectural pearls of the capital city. 

Fortunately, the master of the house and his daughter were not at the property then... 

The sack with her most important belongings and her lute swayed on her back, and Veles' rapier weighed, reassuringly, at her waist as she waited in line for the ferry to take it down the river towards the sea. 

Her plan was to get to Lakesummit and board the first possible transport outside of Kairagord. If she was lucky, she would manage to do it before her father grasps the ashes of their shared home and finds her. 

As she departed from the harbour, she watched the billows of smoke rising from the halo of the fire that engulfed her former life; the city was loud with the bells of fire carriages ringing and cries of people vibrating in the warm summer night. 

Some ragged man smoking a pipe next to her on the deck stared at the smoke scratching his chin. 

“What's going on there? Doomsday?” he grumbled to her. She looked at him and shrugged. 

“Probably not yet. Apparently, some rich guy's house has gone up in smoke.” 

“Aye, I will not cry then.” the man smirked, showing his missing teeth, and limped below the deck. She looked at the halo one last time. 

“Yeah...me too.” 

XXX 

A blanket that someone had thrown over her shoulders pulled Eris out of her numbness. She jumped up and looked around only to see Vildiril looking at her with concern. The fire was almost out; it looked like she was sitting all her guard submerged in a stream of fragmented memories of her life. 

The wind still blew around the valley where they had crashed, Brodomir continued to snore, drowning out everything else, and Mellion was nowhere in sight. Leonard and Reinhilda still hadn't come back from wherever they were now. 

“Are you okay?” Vildiril crouched down beside her, looking at her gingerly. “You trembled like a leaf in the wind.” 

She looked at the elf for a moment, motionless, her mind going blank. After a while, however, she brought a slight smile on her face and said: 

“I was cold. Thank you.” 

The elf nodded, looking unconvinced, but evidently decided not to push. 

“Go to sleep, you look exhausted.” 

He got up and went to kindle the fire again. 

Eris got up, walked slowly to her bedroll and still wrapped in two coats and, now two, blankets, curled up into a ball on top of it. 

She lay for a moment lulled by the quiet conversation between Vildiril and Mellion, who had returned from his reconnaissance. 

Sleep came swiftly, graciously, bringing no dreams this time. 

THE END 


End file.
